Subsonic Flow
by leoandsnake
Summary: Charlie's playing mind games with Maverick, and Iceman's only too happy to join in. Iceman/Maverick.


The fateful day was a Thursday.

Maverick walked into the hangar more than a little hungover, Goose following dutifully. He pulled out a chair and was about to sit down when Charlie snapped a manicured finger at him.

"What?" Maverick muttered, looking up at her nervously. Ever since they had broken up a few nights earlier, Maverick had done his best to avoid a direct conversation with Charlie. His usual routine didn't apply here -- he couldn't just give Charlie an fake phone number, tell her he wanted to be friends more than anything, and forget about her within the week.

"You're sitting over here today," she said briskly.

Goose gave her a double take.

"I'm going to have the pilots sitting next to each other," Charlie replied to his unspoken question, "and the RIOs on the other side."

She snapped her fingers again and pointed a few seats away, jerking her blonde head in Maverick's general direction.

"Okay," Maverick said slowly.

"That means you sit over _there_, honey," Goose said in a mock-housewife voice, nudging Maverick with his hip.

Maverick stumbled over to the other desk. Whatever Charlie was up to, it couldn't be good.

The other pilots and RIOs filed in a bit later. Hollywood, looking rather sleep-rumpled; Slider, his hair gelled more than usual, and Iceman, checking out his nails and looking aloofly disinterested by his surroundings. Everyone except Iceman was looking at Charlie expectantly; Wolfman's head was in a classically quizzical tilt.

"I'm changing around the seating," Charlie said, a brief smile playing at her lips.

"Changing around the -- with all due respect, miss, this isn't middle school, here," Sundown interjected.

"I think you'll be more receptive to what I have to teach you this way," Charlie said. "Chipper, you're over here, Slider, over with Goose, and Iceman, you're next to Maverick."

Hollywood let out a laugh that was ill-disguised as a cough.

Iceman's brow crinkled. He bit his lower lip a little, rolled his eyes, and sat down next to Maverick.

"Good, now that we're all ready," Charlie said, turning to the chalkboard. "One of the most important things to remember about subsonic flow," she said, clacking away with the chalk, "is that..."

Jester wandered over and sat near Charlie, occasionally adding something to whatever she had to say. Maverick's mouth was dry and the room was spinning slightly. He clutched the side of the desk to steady himself and took a silent vow to never listen to Goose's cries of "one more gin and tonic, Mav!" again.

Iceman's foot bumped into his underneath the desk. "Sorry," he drawled.

Maverick glared up at Charlie from his seat. _You want to play mind games?_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _Fine. _

He fixed his gaze on the chalkboard and began inching his foot over to Iceman's. It was hard in shoes, but he slid the sole over Iceman's foot in a slow, meaningful way.

Iceman made absolutely no note of it -- _above_ the desk. Luckily, they were behind Wolfman and Hollywood, so when he slid his shoe off and Maverick followed suit, no one noticed.

Maverick's foot slid up along Iceman's arch, flexing his toes. Iceman's foot jerked back a little in the sock, as if Maverick had caught him by surprise. That was when Maverick had remembered reading that the arch of the foot was an erogenous zone in _The Joy Of Sex _when he was a horny teenager.

Their respective feet continued to intertwine, occasionally rubbing a certain part with a toe. Maverick's lap began to prickle.

Charlie's voice faded out and Maverick tilted his head up, looking at the ceiling of the hangar. It spread out above him, glowing silver in the morning sun. One of the F-14s in front of them was shining like a roughly cut diamond. Maverick felt a drop of sweat trickling down his temple.

Iceman's hand began to creep over to Maverick's lap. Maverick panicked slightly, torn between wanting to slap Iceman's hand away and wanting to let him do whatever they hell he wanted. As soon as Iceman's hand grazed the taut fabric around his crotch, however, he completely lost his train of thought.

Goose met Maverick's eyes from where he was sitting in the front row. He mouthed something that Maverick couldn't understand and raised his eyebrows at him.

"What?" Maverick whispered back.

"Lieutenant Mitchell," Charlie said loudly. Everyone turned and looked around at Maverick.

Iceman's hand never left Maverick's lap -- he continued to massage his half-erect dick.

"Yes," Maverick said, biting his lip to keep from moaning aloud.

"Is there something you'd like to discuss?" Charlie said, tilting her head forward.

"Not particularly," Maverick choked out, leaning forward, his hands pressed against his abdomen in a vain attempt to delay his imminent orgasm.

"Good," she said coolly, turning back to the chalkboard.

"Jesus, Ice!" Maverick hissed.

Iceman casually pulled his hand away. "You can finish yourself if you like," he said quietly, keeping his gaze steady on the chalkboard. "But I assume you don't want to come in front of the entire class."

"No," Maverick snapped.

"So we'll finish this later," Iceman said, a grin in his voice.

"I guess we will then," Maverick said, gritting his teeth.

"Good," said Iceman, in a perfect imitation of Charlie.


End file.
